Shattered Glass
by The New Vampire
Summary: Faye Coeur was a normal girl. And then a car accident left her with useless legs and a broken life. When she receives something that promises to take her wherever she wants to go, she doesn't hesitate. Rated T for angst, darkness, language and minor romance. Canon/OC. -Will
1. Overture Part the First

**Author's Note: Hello everyone! As promised, here is the new story. I hope you guys like it better than Bitterness, because this time I really like the plot. This is sort of my version of the cliché of "girl-gets-injured-severely-then-gets-magically-healed-in-One-Piece". Oh no. Faye's going to have to work hard to get any semblance of healing. I'm e~v~i~l. That being said, I won't bother you guys anymore until the end of this chapter. Please enjoy!**

**Warnings: Swearing, probably a very wrong view of what a hospital is, and overall ANGST.**

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_**Shattered Glass**_

A faint sound.

Footsteps on linoleum.

Soft chatter in the hallway.

The slosh of black hospital coffee in blank white Styrofoam cups.

The creaky rolling of wheelchairs and IV drips.

Scribble of pens on clipboards.

Doctor's orders.

The words, ringing over and over again in my head.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

Cold. Clinical. But a hint of sadness? Had he seen too many cases like my own? Who knows?

The nurse is gentle and quiet. She is very pretty, with dark blue eyes, a curvy body that even turns the doctor's heads, full lips and a soft, musical voice. She smiles often and is cheerful without going to cheesiness. I am grateful to her, even though I am an ugly duckling next to a beautiful sparrow. Her auburn hair is cropped into a modern bob, but my black hair shines dully in its now-longer-than-short, spiky mess. My pancake-flat body next to her curves. My flat, dark grey eyes next to the sapphires of hers. My paper skin next to her pale but still healthy one. I feel like the girl from _The Ring_, standing next to Angelina Jolie with colored contacts.

But she is kind, and brings me bubble gum and lets me play my iPod. Wheels me around when my arms are too tired to move.  
It's been two and a half months. My parents rarely see me, too embarrassed at having to care for a disabled daughter. Sure, Mother can get sympathy on her campaign, but not from my hospital room. Sure, Father can negotiate for more hospital care, but not from my bedside.

I used to have two strong, good legs. I used to swim powerfully, to hike up mountains. To fly without wings. I could get around by myself. I could stand in the shower to sing as loud as I could. I could dance to the music on my iPod. I could run in the rain, the shower of the drops making the air crisper, cooler, easier for me to breathe in that clean, indescribable scent. I could go to dances and dance. I could have snowball fights. I could still astonish everyone at kickball. I could…

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

Now I watch out the window at the huge, sprawling city. Try not to look at the people on the sidewalk. Tall people in suits and fashionable winter coats. People with working legs. They use them without even thinking. Just move. Left, right, left, right, left right left right left right …

On good days, days that the pain faded a little (since now it's only a dull throb, although my body is alright I still hurt), Claire helps me into the wheelchair and gives me my beautiful black-silver leather fingerless gloves. My last gift from my father. Mother's gift was the new watch, the one I had kept asking for. It's in the drawer, gathering dust. She sent it by way of Claire. She wouldn't even look at me last time she was here.

_She looks to the side, at the blank wall. Not at me. Not at the broken doll that is her biological daughter._

_"I'm glad to see that you're doing well…"_

Angry tears burn behind my eyes and I blink, willing them to go away. I've cried enough. Crying will not bring her to my side, holding me like she used to. When Claire gave it to me, I took one look at the lovely Omega and told her to take it. When she refused, I shoved it into the drawer with shaking hands and started to cry. Claire hugged me, confused. She doesn't know.

Father's gift was more practical, and I wear it because he brought it to me himself. But his eyes darted restlessly around, standing in his pinstripe suit and blue shirt and beautiful red tie with the little gold-and-blue fleur-de-leis, never meeting mine. His are sea-green and penetrating, perfect for coercing a client into a better deal. For him, only him. But they never meet mine, which have inherited that penetrating look from him, but the color from my mother.

_"It's wonderful to see you dear…are they treating you well? Are you in pain?...I brought you something."_

I can only forgive him a little bit. Neither of them gave me a hug that day. Both stood to the side, awkward, wrapping them in their numbers and words and long, legal discussions. Away from each other, the partner that they don't love anymore. Away from the daughter. That they don't know what to do with. Not anymore.

That was when I cried. When I knew that I had never penetrated the sickeningly strong ice around either of them.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

I have dim memories of Father and Mother smiling at me, cooing, teaching me words of the world around me. When I wore white Mary Janes and played with Play-Doh and fingerpaints. When I had a sweet, dimpled face and looked like a small cherub, not my parents.

But as I grew up, my parents grew apart and I was the distasteful chain keeping them together. I reminded Mother of Father and vice versa. I was the grimy link. As I turned 10, Mother started her political campaign and Father spent all day in his office…and all night with his secretaries and subordinates. I was the shadow on the stairs, the small intake and outtake of air near them.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

Claire walks beside me, talking like a sweet aunt or a loving older sister. She smiles often and treats me as an adult all the time, except for when I cried. Then she lavished her incredible mothering skills on me.

She is a mother, after all. She sometimes brings in her small twins to see their 'Onee-chan'. A boy and a girl will burst into the room and clamber on my cot, chattering excitedly, their auburn hair and sapphire eyes bursts of color, like their mother. On those days, the pain is unnoticeable. I feel like I am a broken, brittle glass pot trying to hold two bright diamonds. The sun goes right through me and to those small, perfect gems, sparkling and refracting and dancing on them, only leaving sadly, reluctantly.

But I don't want them to be near me, because of the way Claire looks at them. With love in her eyes. With love in her arms, her legs, her fingers, her smile and every last, small movement of that beautiful body. The way I want Mother and Father to look at me, to handle me.

When my arms become lead, she gently takes the handles and pushes me the rest of the way. She tucks me in when it's lights out and wakes me up when the sun is up. She helps me exercise and stretch and encourages me to keep living.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

I really am grateful to her. I don't deserve her, but she acts as if I do. I really will give her that Omega watch. I don't want it anymore. She deserves it. Already, I've gained control of my arms and some of my torso, basically of my entire upper body, including my fingers. I can type and draw and fold tiny origami cranes and balls, to the endless delight of the twins. But when I try to get up (by myself—Claire wouldn't approve) from my cot, my legs sink like jelly. I'm useless, the wheelchair a ball and chain on my unmoving ankle, my wings clipped like the nerve endings in my lower body.

They're much thinner, now. Of course, my entire body is, but they're even thinner than that. Before, they weren't fat but slightly muscular. Now my legs are sticks with a couple inches of meat, fat and skin.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

Sometimes, at night, I dream about what happened. As with most of these kinds of injuries, it was a car accident. A drunk driver collided with the car that had my father driving, who is careful but tense. Even so, we couldn't get out of the way fast enough. I was in the shotgun seat, on our way home from the library, which I'd begged to go to get some books and a movie. I wasn't old enough to drive myself, and Mother had campaigns to plan. So Father did it, reluctantly.

The driver collided with the right headlamp, and the dash crumpled on my legs.

I remember the impact, the screeching of brakes, cursing, white airbags like inflatable marshmallows trying to cover up the scene and not being fast enough. The white-hot screaming _agony_, the banshee shriek that something was _not right never will be right _that something irrevocable had just _happened_ in my legs made me black out.

When I woke up, I heard the doctor giving that awful verdict.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

Again. And again. And again. They won't stop, a record forever spinning on a broken turntable.

I'm sitting out in the pouring rain, on the balcony. Claire has confirmed with the doctors that I'm not suicidal enough to throw myself onto the street below. Besides, that would put a kink into Mother and Father's reputations, right? Their beautiful family image has been shattered. Now their only daughter throws herself off the balcony of a hospital.

I look at the iron-wrought railing and think how easy it would be. To get back at them. To maybe, finally break the ice with my falling body weight. I am on the 13th floor (although customarily, it's called the 14th). The unlucky floor.

But I don't want to do it. I want to walk again. Even though another injury will probably never let me out of this fucking wheelchair again.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

The rain comforts me. Each drop touches my face, cooling it and running down like tears. I should probably go inside, but the chill reminds me that parts of me can still feel.

A pendant hangs around my neck. It is a beautifully wrought phoenix. It's coated with sterling silver and a garnet for the eye. Hardly precious, unlike the jewelry Mother and Father get me. But it was given by my wonderful friend Aiko, when we were in the same school. Before both of us moved away. I wore it every day and I still do. Funnily, the black string that holds the pendant hasn't worn away. It seems stronger, as if that was possible. Maybe it is. Who knows? But it was given with love.

_"I'm sorry, but your daughter only has a very small chance of ever walking again. She is a paraplegic."_

I know that soon Claire will be out here with her gentle ministrations and clucking at me to get inside before I catch my death of cold. Funnily enough, that sounds fine with me. Seems fitting—for an ice-cold girl to die when all warmth forsakes her. Almost fucking poetic. But I will let her guide me in and give me a hot chocolate and bubble gum and recharge my iPod. I've used it non-stop, but she still charges it every day for me. She really is too nice to me.

I just want to stay here longer. The cold wind and rain remind me that I am alive, even going so far as to shyly ruffle some stray pieces of hair that have grown from their shaven state in the two and a half months I've been here.

I just hope that Claire won't ask me why. Then I might have to tell her about my fear that I am slowly fading away. She'll react like any respectable adult, reassure me. But I hope she won't ask why. I don't want to talk right now, just look past the busy city and to the ocean, which moves restlessly, wildly, freely. It's beautiful, even when it's grey-green from all the clouds. That's okay. I can live with everything being grey, sky and sun. That's fine.

I shiver. It really is cold, but that's okay. Shivering means that those muscles function regularly. Means I'm alive. I need to be reminded that I am alive. Because everyday it seems less certain. Alive. I am...alive? Am I?

_"Paraplegic. Your daughter is. Paraplegic. She has. A very small chance of ever walking again. Paraplegic."_

Slowly, so I don't notice it until after it's started, tears mix with the rain.

I lift my head hopelessly to the dark heavens.

I let them come.

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**Author's Note: AANNGGSSTT! FEEL IT! XD Anyway, I wanted to take the space down here to say that I hope you guys like this fic, and I have a question for you all: Who should Faye end up with? The options: A) Luffy; B) Zoro; C) No one; D) Someone else!**

**I think Luffy/Faye would be a good match, seeing that Faye's chock full of good old angst and Luffy practically radiates happiness. He'd balance her out nicely.**

**Zoro/Faye is also a good match, since Zoro is a rock (figuratively and somewhat literally) and Faye kinda does need someone to hang on to right now.**

**If Faye gets no one, that means I'll be tossing namakaship around like fairy dust. XD Not that I won't anyway, but it also means that she can bond equally with all the Mugiwaras.**

**If Faye gets someone else, then…I dunno. *shrugs***

**Anyway, please let me know who you think Faye should end up with!**

**Arigato for reading, everyone! This is Will, signing out!**


	2. Overture Part the Second

**Author's Note: Hello again! I'm back and more determined to finish this fic than ever!**

**First and foremost, arigato to everyone who reviewed, faved and alerted my story! Thank you for giving me a second chance.**

**Secondly, remember when I said that it was going to be really tough for Faye to heal? Well, in light of that, let's not go with regular pairings and go with unrequited love, neh? Sorry all of you for having to cancel your votes! I'm thinking either Zoro/Faye/Luffy or Luffy/Faye/Zoro, although I kinda think that the first pair is more probable, due to all your comments. See, those who voted for Z/F said that Zoro would be really supportive of Faye, and those who voted for L/F said that Faye would find Luffy to help her out of her depressive gloominess. Soo…yeah, I'll just shut up and respond to the nice reviewers, shall I?**

**Reviews:**

**GennaSarah: Here's that update! Thanks so much for reviewing!**

**Guest: Oh, ah ha ha. I know who you are. For heaven's sake, stay OUT of my reviewer's pool!**

**LuvPercy782347213: Here's one! Thanks for your review!**

**NightWindAlchemist: Sorry! I guess you'll have to vote again! But thanks for your review anyway!**

**SarasDevaliere: That was incredible help! Thanks so much, and sorry for voiding everyone's vote! Thank you for your review and your compliments!**

**valeries26: Ah, everyone seems to think so!**

** . .awsum: Thank you! Better friend than lover, huh? I guess we'll just have to see how it goes! Thank you for your compliments and your review! **

**BlackWolfang: Aw, thanks! I hope you like this chapter as well!**

**xasianbuddyx: Yay, another person who likes the Zoro/Faye pairing! Sanji as your second? Interesting…as for your question, I debated on that but no, she's starting from scratch. I'm trying to look for good weapons for people in wheelchairs but no one knows…as for when she'll pop in, that's…probably going to be discovered in the next chapter or so. Thanks so much for your review!**

**Forbiden Light: Thanks! A lot of people seem to say so…but you guys'll just have to vote again, neh? *dodges ammo* Thanks for your review!**

**violentyetawesome: Eh heh heh, yup! Why? Well because British people are awesome! Not as awesome as you, but they get by. YOU SHOULD BE JAPANESE NEXT! So then you can be even cooler! XD Thanks for your compliments, and tell Blaze, Destiny, Paige, Silk and all the rest that I said hi!**

**Warnings: Mm, some swearing…maybe? Angst and gloomy depressiveness and _really_ slow plot moving.**

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**Shattered Glass**

I wake up from the nightmare again, forgetting it before I am fully awake and all that is left is the icy-cold feeling of terror and utter helplessness.

Claire rolls in something. It's a small TV.

"The doctors said you can have one now!" she says cheerfully. She places the black remote in my hand. I stare blankly first at it, then at her. "Is something wrong?"

"I…I don't remember any of the channels," I tell her in a dry, cracking voice. Dry and cracking from disuse.

Claire laughs softly, not meanly, and hands me TV Guide. I flip through it, find Funimation. One Piece. Wednesday s, at 4:00. Guess they want to catch the kids. Turn to that channel.

I remember One Piece. About a crazy kid with a crazy dream and a bunch of crazy namaka with equally crazy dreams. I remember how I watched them, cheering them on.

I see this week's episode. It's a rerun—I know that. The English dub passed the Little Garden arc a long time ago. This one is the last in the arc, where Nami falls sick. Not much fighting here, but I still like it, like watching them interact and fight. I giggle at all the jokes and roll my eyes at the horrible dubbed puns. The Japanese dub is better.

At one point, Claire walks from the room. When she comes back, she is smiling, with a stack of books in her hands.

"I noticed that you seem to like this show a lot," she says when it ended and I turn it off. I nod. Before my legs disappeared, I loved it. I read it, watched it, lived it, breathed it. It was beautiful, and I had basked in the sunlight of Luffy's smile, loved the determination of Zoro's will, giggled at the slyness of Nami, facepalmed at Sanji's antics, smiled at Usopp's attempts at impressing his wiser crewmates, cooed over Chopper's adorableness, loved Robin's horde of knowledge, rolled my eyes at Franky's outspokenness and laughed at Brooke's constant attempts to see his female namaka's underwear. "So, I borrowed some of the books under the same title at the library." I look at them. A largely incomplete but still wonderfully tall stack of One Piece manga stood on my night table.

"You…you did this in half an hour?" I ask, looking up at her. She laughs.

"Yes. The librarian knew where it was and pointed them out to me. Plus, the library's only a four minute walk." My lips twitch. Curl into a slow, uncertain smile. Haven't smiled…for a long time. Maybe since the twin's last visit. When was that?

"Thank you." She nods. Smiles. Walks out to check up on her newer patient. I wait. Stare at the books. Pick out one. It's the one from Alabasta. It has the head members of Baroque Works on it.

I lean back. The pillows are not quite soft but comfortable enough. I open it. I disappear.

-:-:-

When Claire comes back, I am not there. I am in the Davy Back Fight, standing in the field with Zoro and Sanji. We've just been beaten, but we're standing up again. The smell of blood is thick and palpable, but so is their anger. And their determination. We will win. But foreign footsteps draw me reluctantly away, and the world of color fades to the white and grey of the hospital.

"Let's get you into this wheelchair," she says softly. "Then we'll go down to the park—how does that sound?" It sounds okay. She wheels it over and I push down the covers, pushing myself into the seat. I'm a lot easier to lift now. She helps me arrange my feet, and then pulls out from another drawer some of my favorite clothes. I pick out a black waterproof hoodie, a white shirt and black yoga pants. She helps me dress, and then puts fuzzy socks on my feet. They match my color choices—they are prison-striped black and white. I pick up my iPod and the Orbit gum.

We enter the curtain of rain. My arms are warm now, falling back to the now familiar pattern of rolling myself places. Claire is still talking, something about the twins and pie-making.

There's a gazebo, but it's got evil steps. So Claire points out a relatively sheltered bench and we go there, and talk a little before Claire's pager beeps. She tries to bring me back, but I tell her that I'm fine. I'll come back later.

She walks away, back into the building. The rain is pouring now, and the little spot of dry is slowly getting wetter.

Eventually, I turn back to go to the hospital. But as I back up, I see a small flash of a bright color near the tree. Curious, I bend over and pick it up.

It's a One Piece book. Number 1.

I pick it up. It's dry, and in mint-condition, not even a single crease on the spine. No name, nothing other than a small bookmark dropping from one of the pages to indicate that it was found anywhere but a bookstore.

I pick it up. It's a sort of shiny silver-white, but blank. Then words start forming.

**If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?**

I blink. Turn it over. Nothing. Turn back to the front. Still there.

**If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?**

I tuck the bookmark in the book and put the book in my jacket. It's not stealing if it was on the ground in the first place. I can convince myself of that. I roll back to the hospital, my phoenix pendant resting warmly on the hollow of my throat.

**If you were to go on a trip...where would you like to go?**

The words take the place of the doctor's verdict. But they are friendlier. Kinder.

I watch the elevator count numbers to 13. Hug the book closer to me. Funny enough, it's warm.

For once, I feel content.

-:-:-

**If you were to go on a trip…where would you like to go?**

I turn the card over in my hands. I know where I want to go.

But will it be better than here?

I set it on the table. Open the drawer and stare at the watch.

Yes.

Even if I…

Yes.

But what if…

Yes.

Even though…?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

**If you were to go on a trip…where would you like to go?**

I'm in my wheelchair right now. Claire is not back. One of the nurses I asked told me that she needs extensive time with this new patient. I am jealous, a hot flash before it fades. I throw it in the filling bottle of negative emotions. One day it will spill over. But like always, I will let some of it flow before corking it back up. I know at the bottom are things I do not want to face. Hate. Wrath. Jealousy. Envy. Depression. And despair.

**If you were to go on a trip…where would you like to go?**

I turn back to the card, then away to the wall. I am not ready. Not yet.

I wheel over to the door and gently close it. The sign on it says "Please do not disturb." No one will bother me now. I wheel over to the chest of drawers.

I may not be a genius, but I'm smart enough to know that I need to prepare. Next to the chest of drawers is my sports wheelchair, the kind you see disabled people playing basketball in. I put the brakes on and maneuver myself into the other wheelchair, pushing the regular one into a corner. I find a good backpack, the one that Mother sent with her present. I open drawers, pull out some pajamas, some regular clothes. No jeans. They're too stiff, at least the ones Mother sent. Only half of the backpack is filled. It's a big one, designed to hold many textbooks and binders. I put in my wallet, with the five 100 dollar bills Mother put in, along with the other money I had before. I drop in some of my favorite paperbacks, and my thick drawing notebook with my favorite pen in the binding. I squeeze in all the packs of gum I have in the front pocket. I think they will last me a month or two.

Looking through the untouched drawers on the bottom, I find a large first-aid kit, hospital-issue. Good. I'll need that. I fit that and zip up the backpack. That's filled now. Filled with a slightly morbid curiosity, I look through the other bottom drawers. A Bible in one. Dust in another. And in the last…nothing. What did I expect, medical records that said I was well on my way to walking? A secret letter from Mother or Father?

Yes. To be honest, yes.

Because I know the truth. I might never walk again. And Mother and Father have become as impersonal as the bottom of that last drawer.

Inside the drawer, I heap all my misgivings, hesitations, ties to the real world. Then close it. I roll over to my bed and sitting on it, take the hospital notepad and the pen.

_Dear Claire,_

_Please do not be alarmed at my absence. As ludicrous as it might sound, I have decided to go on a trip. No, not to the morgue, or to a grave 6 feet deep. To a…different place, you might say. But I am far from dead._

_Thank you for everything, Claire. For all the days you stayed with me when my parents were somewhere else. For bringing me the stack of One Piece manga. For helping me all this time. For bringing the twins to see me._

_Tonight when you see the twins, please give them each a hu__g and kiss and tell them that Onee-chan is on a trip, and that one day I may find my way back here._

_There is a watch in the drawer of my night table. Please take it. It doesn't matter if you sell it or keep it, but please do. Consider it payment._

_Finally, please tell both of my parents that I really did love them. Tell them not to waste their time with police and searches—this is completely consensual._

_I wish I could tell you this in person, but you have obligations, others who depend on you. So I'll just write it down._

_I love you, Nee-chan._

_Faye Coeur._

I set down the pen and reach over to the stack of manga, looking longingly at all of them…I pick up the card.

"If I were to go on a trip…I would go to the One Piece world!" I say, and for the first time in so long, my voice is not broken and soft, but strong and lilting, like it used to be.

I see a flash, and a rush of air envelops me. I close my eyes and let it take me.

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**Author's Note: Not much too really write here! Thank you all for sticking with me, and I hope you'll like this story even better than Bitterness! Arigato!**

**This is Will from The New Vampire! Thank you for reading my work!**


	3. Crescendo Part the First

**Author's Note: Hello everyone, and thank you for sticking with my story! It just occurred to me (doesn't it with everyone?) that I don't have a disclaimer!**

…

**WHO CAREEEES?**

…

**Oh, right. *sigh* FINE.**

**Disclaimer: To all idiots, legal rats and everyone else who's picky enough for this, I DON'T OWN THE BRAINCHILD OF EIICHIRO ODA. Oh, you want me to say it? FINE. I don't own ONE PIECE or anything else REMOTELY RECOGNIZABLE except for FAYE COEUR, KIYKO, AOI and YUMIKO. PLEASE FORGIVE MY INCOMPITENCE.**

**There. We all happy? Good. Onward men, to the reviews!**

**Reviews:**

**Forbiden Light: Thanks for your vote! Opposites attract? Oh boy, Amara's going to have something to say about that…oh, right, none of you know about her yet…disregard everything I said about Amara. XD Thanks for your review!**

**hp1piececraziness: I'm so happy you like it! Well…no. I want this fic to not only be realistic, but also focus on Faye's struggle with her expectations, which will lead to a schism…but that's a story you'll find out later. So no, Faye has to work harder to walk. XD Thanks so much for your review!**

**violentyetawesome: OHMIGOD THAT WAS BEAUTIFUL. *flails on the floor* Shishishi, thanks for acquiescing to my request! What was it? BEAUTY. PURE UNADULTERED PRETTINESS. XD Oh…um, should I be concerned? About Death's greeting? Thanks for your review!**

**LuvPercy782347213: You're welcome! *returns hugs* Um, that meat…how long was the battle? :D Oh, would you rather me refer to you as LuvLuffy or LuvPercy? Here's the update you wanted, and thank you so much for your review!**

**angelrider13: Here's more! Thanks for your vote, and your review!**

**MusicOfMadness: Faye: "Because I'm a cripple. Duh." No, really, Faye just misses her legs a lot, and she's always been somewhat quiet and angsty, considering her parents seem to hate her. Given that, thanks for your concern, and thank you for your review!**

**Warnings: Angst, a surprising lack of swear words, and…not much, I guess.**

**Enjoy~!**

* * *

**Shattered Glass**

When I open my eyes again, the sun shines down brightly and I have to close them again against the bright glare. How long has it been since I've seen such a clear day? Who knows—before today, I never paid much attention to the sky.

My mind is drawn back to where I am. Which is a beautiful room with a mattress soft enough to sink into and fall asleep instantly. With difficulty, and an odd tiredness, I manage to move.

Sounds.

I hear exuberant giggles from the other side as little children stare at me from the doorway. I lick my lips and ask the time honored when-the-sleeper-wakes question.

"Where am I?" I ask, a soft exhale I'm not sure anyone heard.

"You're on Mako Island," says a graying woman with a kind face. "I'm Kiyko, and the children's names are Aoi and Yumiko. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I mumble, looking down at the covers. My hands are still small and slightly bony, but they're drawn in ink. Kiyko smiles gently, an old-woman smile that has Eichiroo Oda written all over it.

I'm really here. I really, honestly am here. I am in One Piece, the place I have dreamed of escaping to ever...ever since...well, ever since _that_ time. It's so much better than my old world. People don't die here. Pain is only a little thing, such a little thing... People are strong. Stronger than anything. Strong enough to achieve their dreams.

This is the place that dreams come true.

Including...mine? Could I possibly walk again? I still can't feel my legs, even though the useless lumps are clearly seen through the blanket. The doctor said a very small chance. Still, that's a chance, right? I may never see anyone familiar, what are the chances? But if I can overcome that, maybe...

"Are you OK?" Kiyko asks gently, putting a slightly rough but still very soft and motherly hand on my shoulder. I blink, finally registering the tears in my eyes, registering how tightly my hands have fisted over the blanket.

"I...I'm really here," I murmur, powerless to stop the words from tumbling out of my mouth. With that, something that was always brittle inside me snaps like a candy cane and the tears come again, both warming and chilling me inside. Kiyko only smiles sadly as if she's seen this before and hugs me with the warm gentleness that only Claire has been able to give.

"Ssh," she says softly, gently rocking me back and forth. "It's alright. You're safe now. It's alright to cry."

And with that, I do.

-:-:-

When I'm finished, Kiyko releases me and walks out of the room. I can hear some silverware being moved around, and she comes back with a tray of steaming soup. When she sets it down on my lap, I can _feel_ the heat from the tray, can smell the goodness of the miso, and I can feel my stomach's lurch, suddenly awakened with the promise of miso soup.

"Thank you," I mumble, before hissing as the hot soup scalds my mouth. Kiyko hums.

"Be careful. Soup can burn you easily," she says with her motherly smile. I offer a pale fasimilie, blowing this time on the soup before swallowing. It's delicious and practically radiates heat as it goes down. I finish it in record time, and after I'm done, Kiyko takes the bowl and sets it on the table. "Now, tell me how you washed up here on this side of the Grand Line," she invites, sitting down and looking at me carefully. I bite my lip, trying to come up with a realistic response.

"I...well, my parents and I were traveling to...another island, to see if one of the doctors could fix my legs." I gave a brittle smile and gestured to the two lumps under the covers. "I was in...an accident and now they're paralyzed. The doctors back home told us it was useless...so...we hit a storm while traveling and the ship wrecked...I don't...I don't remember…I…don't think anyone else...survived," I finish, staring at the covers. Kiyoko raises an eyebrow but doesn't say anything about the insane number of holes in my story.

"What's your name?" she finally asks.

"Faye. My name is Faye Coeur." She smiles and gestures to a corner of the bedroom. Sitting there are my wheelchair and backpack, and my clothes, that look washed and folded.

"They were found along with you," she says. "Are they yours?" I nod vigorously, hoping that everything is OK in there. "You've been out of it for two days," Kiyko starts. "I bet you're itching to go outside. Let's get you into that wheelchair, and I'll push you to the front porch, OK?" I nod and let her help me into my wheelchair.

Outside, the weather is warm and the winds, more wild and confident than those in my old world, carry the warmth into a blanket. The sun shines merrily in the baby blue sky and the ocean laps a nearby beach. Everything radiates a carefree cheerfulness, and I'm powerless to stop the smile tugging at my mouth. I want to stay here forever, in this world that is so much more inviting.

But the outside also reminds me of an important question: now that I'm here, what should I do?

Should I stay on this island forever, content with a simple life?

Should I venture outside to the wide world?

Should I try to find the Mugiwaras?

Should I search for a different pirate crew?

Should I stay on the other side of the law?

Should I just try to find a way for me to walk again?

What should I do?

The wind continues to play, and something makes me reach into my backpack. What I pull out is the One Piece book I found. The bookmark falls out again, with a single word.

**Welcome.**

And with that single word, I know what I will do.

The contents of the book have changed incredibly, or perhaps they were never normal-I didn't look inside before I left. Instead of documenting Luffy's journey from Fushia Island and the recruitment of Zoro, there's maps and notes, excerpts from some ship logs and tips on almost everything.

"Faye?" I hear Kiyko say next to me, and I look up. She is still smiling. "What will you do after this, Faye?"

My smile stretches, and for a moment it feels off, a little weird. But I welcome it and it settles naturally. I look out to the sea and feel laughter bubble inside my chest for the first time in so, so long.

"What am I going to do? I'm going to **live**!"

* * *

**Author's note: Finally! Something ended on a happy note! Honestly, I'm really surprised at the lack of swear words…Faye is a person who (so far) doesn't get angry easily, and uses very little swear words…strange…**

**That being said, I'd like to ask you guys *another* question, but it's on my profile page! Please tell me (in the poll or a review or whatever) what weapon you think would be best for Faye! I have a couple ideas but I can't decide…Gomen for reading my horrible work!**

**Best wishes to you all,**

**~Will**


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